Potter
by Meatball
Summary: Can Severus Snape ever see Harry, see past Harry's resemblance to Severus's enemy James Potter, in order to help him learn Occlumency?  Completed fic, oneshot. Thank you to Margherita and Claudia!


Title: Potter

Author: Meatball

Rating: PG

Archive: Sure, feel free

Summary: Could Snape ever forgive Harry Potter for being who is he? For who his father was?

Author's Note: Of course I don't own these characters, just borrowing them for a little bit.

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"…undeniably arrogant, disrespectful, cares for nothing but his own fame and Quidditch, has no idea how important…"

"Severus…"

"…wasting my time, not to mention…"

"Severus." More firmly this time.

"…even detention has no effect…"

"SEVERUS!"

Severus Snape paused in his angry recital, giving Albus Dumbledore a look that was both sulky and bitter. His lips tightened, and he sat on the other side of Dumbledore's desk, thin arms folded across his chest.

Dumbledore took a deep breath, leaned forward, and said, "I hear you, Severus. As I have heard you numerous times, abusing the character of young Harry. By now, I am quite aware of his many faults, as you perceive them." Snape did not look mollified, and Dumbledore continued. "However, I must confess that I am becoming very tired of hearing the same complaints over and over. I merely asked for a report on how Harry's Occlumency lessons were proceeding." He leaned back in his comfortable chair and regarded Snape, a small smile playing about his mouth. He did not appear to be very angry.

Snape, on the other hand, wore a most sour expression on his narrow face. "Terrible, Headmaster."

"Severus…"

"He's _not trying_! I have explained to him how important these lessons are, but he shows little or no aptitude for the task. He's not interested, and he is not even trying to learn. I am wasting my time."

Dumbledore sighed, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What do you suggest? Abandoning the lessons altogether?"

Snape frowned. "Of course not. It is vital that he learn to shield his mind. But…he is too emotional. His anger is a weakness, but he does not see it that way. He is so much like his father."

"That's not helping, Severus…"

"But it is true!" Snape insisted, half-rising out of his chair. His normally-pale face was flushed with anger. "I tell you over and over again, Dumbledore, that he embodies the worst traits of James Potter! Believe me, I know far more of those charming traits than you do, having been the unwilling victim of Potter's arrogance and bullying for seven years! Everything that is negative in Potter's brat is directly inherited from his fath--"

"Severus, that is enough!" Dumbledore slammed his hand down on his desk. Snape, to his credit, did not back down, but he did halt his tirade, and stood, facing Dumbledore, his dark eyes flashing.

Dumbledore also stood, hands on his hips, and continued in a calmer voice. "I do not want to hear you call Harry a brat again. Has it occurred to you that your treatment of him might, in fact, be the reason that the lessons are not progressing satisfactorily?"

"Perhaps," said Snape, folding his arms across his chest again. "Perhaps I am not the proper teacher for Potter." He smiled thinly. "By all means, find another instructor. I would be quite grateful if you did so." He sat down in the chair again, one leg folded over the other, glaring at Dumbledore challengingly through his dark hair, with just the slightest smirk on his face.

At that, Dumbledore actually burst out laughing, then sat down. "You could give Potter lessons in arrogance, Severus. I have never seen the like of you, in all my years." He chuckled, shaking his head. At this, Severus turned serious again, and leaned forward.

"To be honest, Albus, I amnotthe best teacher for Potter. I don't know what else to do with him." He spread his hands helplessly, ignoring the shower of sunflower seed shells that Fawkes kicked down onto them. "I honestly don't know what to do. What would you do?"

"Have you forgotten my teachings so quickly?" Smiling slightly, Dumbledore deftly wiped the seed shells off his desk, brushing a few off Snape's sleeve at the same time, and dropped the small pile into the wastebasket beside his desk. "Enough, Fawkes," he murmured up at the phoenix, who was, at that moment, playfully flinging a seed at Snape's head. It was an old game between those two, Fawkes and Snape. As always, Snape pretended to ignore the phoenix, but Dumbledore knew that Severus would playfully (and gently) tug on the bird's tailfeathers as soon as Dumbledore's back was turned. He stood and added a small handful of sunflower seeds to Fawkes' food bowl, from the large tin that Snape had given the bird for Christmas. "Behave," Dumbledore muttered to the bird. "We're having a serious conversation here." With a small wink, he turned back to his desk and sat down again.

"Of course I haven't forgotten, Albus, but I _wanted_ to learn. Potter does not want to learn. He doesn't give a damn. Just like his…" He broke off at the warning glare from the older man, and sighed. "Never mind. I can see that I am wasting my time here."

Dumbledore stared at Snape for a moment, then smiled, as though something had struck him. "Tell me something," he said. "Tell me something, Severus. If Harry did not look like James…if he looked more like his mother, with red hair, and did not wear glasses, would you still hate him so much?"

"That's not…" Snape paused, frowned. "It's not his appearance, it's…"

"No?"

"I…I don't…"

"Assignment for you, Severus. I'll be generous and give you the entire weekend to work on it. Try to picture Harry with his mother's features rather than his father's, and think of his personality and traits then. Pretend James Potter is not at all related to him. And then tell me if you still hate him."

Snape stared at Dumbledore, frowning slightly. "I do not hate Harry Potter," he said, finally.

"No?"

"No."

"You had me fooled, then." Dumbledore stood. "That is your assignment. Picture him with a different appearance, and I want a verbal report on Monday evening from you. I want you to tell me all the good things about him."

Snape stood, with a strange, distant expression on his face. "Is that everything, sir?"

"Yes."

"Then I will take my leave of you."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll see you at supper, Severus." He turned away, dismissing the younger man.

Snape nodded, still preoccupied, and turned to leave. He was not so preoccupied, however, to forget to tease Fawkes on the way out. Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore saw Severus quickly give the phoenix's tail a gentle tug, and he smiled at the overly-dramatic squawk it invariably produced. A second later, a sunflower bounced off the back of Snape's head and fell, ignored, on the floor, and the bird returned happily to his chew toy. With a small wave of his wand, Dumbledore sent the seed into the waste bin, and returned to his books.

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Severus Snape peered up at the ceiling in his bedroom. The room was comfortingly gloomy, with just a small candle providing illumination, and he lay stretched out on his bed. Idly, his eyes roamed over the rough patterns hewn in the rock that made up the ceiling. The flickering candle's light caused odd shadows to dance across the surface.

He relaxed, letting the soothing atmosphere wash away the day, clearing his mind. This was a daily ritual for him, just before supper and just before he embarked upon his evening's activities. Tonight, he and Minerva McGonagle would resume the chess game that they had been playing nearly every night over the last week. They were no nearer a conclusion than they had been when they started -- the woman was damned vicious and nearly unbeatable when it came to chess -- but he had thought of a few moves that he would possibly put into play. Perhaps he would finally win a chess game against her. Severus smiled, knowing just how unlikely that would be. The woman was a master.

His mind wandered and roamed, until finally, he thought of the argument with Albus earlier, and that annoying assignment. Pretend Potter was not James Potter's son? Impossible. That hateful face was stamped with the same features…

No, wait. Pretend he resembled Lily. Instead of untidy black hair, pretend he had dark auburn hair, without those ridiculous cowlicks. Maybe a touch wavy, like Lily's had been. Get rid of those glasses. Pretend Potter had Lily's smile. Never mind the name Potter, too. Harry Evans? Perhaps. Then…his breath caught in his throat. Harry…Snape?

Severus sat up quickly, his arms clenched around himself. Harry Snape? Could he pretend that Harry was _his _son? His, and Lily's?

Snape made an angry, frustrated noise low in his throat. He had no doubt that this was what Dumbledore had hoped for, that Snape would think of Harry in such a way. Well, it wasn't going to work. He was on to the old man.

"Nice try, Albus," he muttered, lying down again and throwing an arm across his eyes, as if to banish the images that came to his mind, unbidden. Images glimpsed during the unsuccessful Occlumency sessions. Images of Harry as a child, abused and neglected. No friends, no decent family, no love…he thought of Harry watching his cousin with mountains of new toys, while Harry had nothing but hand-me-downs, Harry being terrorized by his bullying cousin and uncle, Harry being chased by his aunt's dog, Harry's loneliness and misery, sleeping in a cupboard full of spiders…"Terrible," Snape whispered to himself, his heart hurting for the child. "Absolutely terrible."

How could Albus have allowed Lily's son to be raised that way? How could Albus have allowed any child to be raised in such a miserable way? If Harry had been his and Lily's child, there was no way, no way whatsoever, that he would have allowed the boy to have been raised so. He wouldn't have spoiled him, no, not like Harry's cousin had been spoiled, but Harry would have been loved, and wanted, and…

…and it was time to dress for the evening meal.

Sitting upright and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Snape decided to think more on the matter later. Now that he thought of it, what he had assumed to be arrogance may in fact just be self-defense. To be honest, perhaps he hadn't given Harry a decent chance. And to be raised by Petunia Evans, the poor child! Lily would turn over in her grave if she had any idea how Petunia had mistreated her son. He wouldn't have allowed any son of his to have been treated so…

On his way to the Great Hall, Severus thought that perhaps he should try a different approach with the boy. Perhaps more of a nurturing, encouraging approach, similar to what Dumbledore often used with him. It was worth a chance, and if Potter actually managed to learn Occlumency, then it would be worth it.

As he took his seat, Snape, as a matter of habit, glanced over in Harry's direction, and he froze.

Ron Weasley had just spilled a glass of pumpkin juice down the front of his robes, and Harry was laughing. The sight of his mocking, arrogant, laughing face…how often had he, Snape, seen that very expression on James Potter's face, directed at himself? It sent chills down his spine.

Snape looked away in disgust. It was hopeless.

He could never forgive Harry James Potter for being…Harry James Potter.


End file.
